


Deities in Descent

by misura



Category: The Malazan Book of the Fallen - Steven Erikson
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: In which Kellanved is aggrieved, Dancer is clueless and Dassem is perplexed. (early Empire days)





	Deities in Descent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadmean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadmean/gifts).



"You have a problem," said Kellanved, and it was a testament to Dancer's exhaustion that it took him a few seconds to realize the significance of that 'you' where he might have expected a 'we'.

"I do?" Dancer found it hard to imagine any problem he might have that did not also involve Kellanved, however peripherally. As a matter of fact, he might even go so far as to say that the majority of his (or, if you wished, their) problems stemmed from Kellanved's decisions and desires, rather than his own.

"Well," Kellanved amended, "it might be _we_ have a problem." He stabbed a finger at Dancer's chest. "But considering the matter is your responsibility, I shall expect _you_ to deal with it. I myself am far too ... busy, yes. Too busy. Alas."

"Alas," Dancer echoed. _Probably nothing, then._ "Which of our many problems are you referring to?"

"Soldiers," Kellanved said, his tone one of immense aggrievement. "We need them. Our empire needs them. Alive, well-trained and capable of great feats."

Dancer nodded. _Patience,_ he reminded himself. Dealing with Kellanved always required patience. _You've come this far without strangling him - why break that streak now?_ What matter, if he was all but falling asleep where he stood?

"What we do _not_ need are soldiers behaving as if they were members of a royal harem, or a priesthood. Or anything of the like." Kellanved considered. "No other examples immediately come to mind, I grant you. Still, I am confident you have grasped my point."

_That makes one of us, then._ "Does this have anything to do with Dassem?"

Kellanved spread his hands. "Does not everything have to do with Dassem? At least where you're concerned nowadays." He sniffed. "Honestly, if I were the jealous type - or even the tiniest bit paranoid, but fortunately for the both of you, I am the very picture of benevolent acceptance and tolerance."

Dancer decided to ignore that claim in favor of searching for the problem Kellanved was supposedly intent on drawing his attention to. _Soldiers and Dassem. Recruitment?_ They did not lack recruits, last he checked, nor the facilities to train them. "I - I'm afraid you've lost me."

Kellanved froze, his expression one of - _oh, for Hood's sake_.

"Proverbially," Dancer added. "I'm weary, I'm hungry and I want to spend the next eight hours sleeping. So if you have a point to make, I suggest you get to it. I realize it's a lot to ask, but perhaps you might find it in you to make the effort."

"Ah," said Kellanved, relaxing. "Yes. Now that you mention it - I had ascribed it to other causes. No matter. Let me be succinct, then. You, my dear Dancer, need deal with your rivals. Swiftly and without showing mercy or restraint - other than, of course, not killing or injuring anyone. A simple enough thing, yes?"

"Rivals," Dancer repeated.

"The _soldiers_ ," Kellanved hissed.

"Dassem's soldiers."

"Ah!" Kellanved beamed at him triumphantly. "Not so sluggish after all! Indeed! The entire mess described with admirable brevity. Well done. You will handle matters then. I am relieved."

"I still fail to see the problem," Dancer said.

Kellanved slumped where he sat and started snoring.

 

Eight hours of sleep had been too much to hope for. Dancer snatched four, and counted himself lucky.

Kellanved was nowhere to be found, although in truth, he had little desire to resume their earlier conversation. Dassem, by contrast, was found easily enough, by the simple method of seeking out the command tent.

"You should get some rest."

Dassem smiled faintly. "I could tell you the same, and with as much justification."

"I've slept for four hours," said Dancer. "I rather doubt you can make the same claim."

Dassem shrugged. "Wars do not simply end when one side emerges victorious. There are a number of things requiring my immediate attention." He glanced at Dancer's expression and added, "Although none so pressing that I can't spare you some moments of my time. Has something happened?"

"Kellanved has ... concerns," Dancer said. They were not alone. _Dassem's soldiers._ A natural enough development, surely, for an army to develop loyalty to its commander, especially when said commander was skilled, intelligent. Not shy to show concern for his soldiers' health and well-being.

_And yet._

Dassem frowned. "He suspects foul play?"

_Ah._ Dancer noted the soldiers' response to Dassem's question. The way they came to attention, readying themselves not to fight, but to defend, to protect. He rather doubted it was his own person inspiring such a strong reaction.

"Nothing of the like. Might we discuss the matter in private?" he asked.

If anything, the tension mounted. Only Dassem appeared oblivious to it. "Of course."

The soldiers filed out, their body language loudly proclaiming their reluctance. _My rivals._ The notion was ridiculous, it went without saying. Rivalry suggested some kind of equal footing, a common goal achievable only by one of several parties. A conflict of irreconcilable interests.

_These men and women are not my rivals._

"I envy you the four hours," Dassem said, smiling.

"You look alert enough," replied Dancer. _And yet. If it ever came to it, would they prove to be ours, or Dassem's? Is Kellanved right to worry? Have we become complacent? Already?_

Dassem shrugged "Appearances deceive. But I feel sufficiently well to be of some use, still."

"Good," Dancer said, in part for lack of anything else to say.

"The Emperor's concerns?" Dassem reached for one of the maps on the table, removing the tokens representing armies, reinforcements, supplies.

Dancer considered. He had come this far, though; he supposed he might as well bring the matter out into the open, see what light Dassem might shed. "Your soldiers."

"Ah." Dassem frowned. "Yes. I see."

_Is everyone in this army more clear-sighted than I am?_ "I don't. Can you explain?"

Dassem's expression turned pensive. "Not really. Remember, I am not a soldier by trade. This experience is as new to me as it is to you. As such, I can offer little insight, let alone a remedy for the situation. It is possible that I am at fault in some way. Perhaps it is even likely. Who else, after all?"

"The situation being?" Dancer prompted. He was almost beginning to feel like he was addressing Kellanved.

Dassem sighed. "As Hood's Mortal Sword, people would on occasion accord me a respect greater than was proper. I would explain to them that I, too, but served, my power and influence over him no greater than anyone else's." He grimaced. "They would rarely listen, though."

"And now?" Dancer had little desire to revisit the past, nor to reopen old wounds, for all the advantages they may have brought him and Kellanved. _Had you served Hood still, what would have become of our empire? Our ambitions? Our desires?_

"Now, too, I find myself regarded as something more than what I know myself to be," Dassem said.

_Well. And is this not the core element to all of Kellanved's plans? To be viewed as something other than what he is? To be considered more powerful, more influential, more knowing?_ Of course, Kellanved was not Dassem. Dancer could hardly think of two people less alike. _And there's irony for you, I suppose. Never let it be said the gods lack a sense of humor in bestowing their gifts._

Dassem looked vaguely embarrassed. "There have been ... incidents. Soldiers turning on one another in order to secure a position allowing them to remain near me in battle. And elsewhere."

"I can see how that would be undesirable, yes," Dancer said. He wondered how Kellanved would have learned of such occurrences, when he himself had known nothing.

_Granted, I've been occupied with other matters._ Not all wars were won solely on the field of battle. _To kill a snake, best to cut off the head - and make sure to burn the nest before you turn your attention to the next venture._

"Has the Emperor proposed a solution?" Dassem asked, sounding hopeful.

"No," said Dancer, then hesitated. "Of a sort," he amended. "He suggested I deal with the problem. Without any violence or bloodshed."

Dassem frowned. "I would think that last part obvious. These are our soldiers, after all. They bear no blame in this."

_It's probably that exact attitude that makes them worship you as they do._ Dancer blinked as his own choice of words fully registered. _Worship. Is that what we're dealing with here? A cult of worship? Of a living man, rather than a god, or even an Ascendant?_

"Be that as it may, I confess I haven't the least idea what, exactly, he expects me to do," Dancer said. _A familiar enough feeling._

"I would assume you are doing it already," said Dassem. "You have come to see me."

"And this helps how?"

"I do not know," Dassem confessed.

_Great._ "That's not very helpful."

"Still, you are here now," Dassem said. "You can assist me with various matters, form your own impression of the situation. Something may yet occur to you."

_Such as the observation that building an empire is far more difficult than tearing one down._

Dancer watched Dassem's movements as he rolled up another map. He cleared his throat.

"Something has occurred to me already. You need to rest. A few hours, at least."

"And after I have done so, will I suddenly have been granted new wisdom and fresh insight?"

"Probably not," Dancer acknowledged. "It'll give me an excuse to do the same, though."

"Ah," said Dassem. "And so, will you join me?"

"Wasn't my idea for the both of us to get some rest?"

"I find your company ever restful," Dassem said. "Among other things."

"Thank you. Assuming that was, in fact, a compliment."

"It was a statement of fact," said Dassem. "Nevertheless, you are welcome."

From the corner of his eye, Dancer thought he saw the shadows in that part of the tent that was furthest from him writhe briefly, as if in the grip of some emotion. Looking at them directly though, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary and so he followed Dassem outside, to where the men and women upon whom he and Kellanved had built their empire waited and held watch.

If any of them envied him, he could only pity them for their ignorance.

_After all, in my own way, I, too, worship him._


End file.
